


Castle

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim’s recovering from his near death experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Jim sits up a little straighter when he hears the door open, but he otherwise doesn’t move. He’s getting tired, but he doesn’t want to go to bed just yet. He knows Spock will probably say he should—Spock’s always trying to enforce Bones’ bed rest orders. Dying was a traumatic experience, but... Jim’s just not the type to go comatose over it.

Instead, he’s the type to regress several years and sink in on himself and have generally fucked up fears and oddities that he didn’t want to have. He’s uncomfortable and restless inside his own skin, not liking how sluggish his body is while it learns to move again. The world is a big scary place, and he wants to explore it all again, but he’s also _terrified_ that he’ll be terrified.

So he sits in his little makeshift tent in the corner of the bedroom, one side pinned up by a set of drawers and the other by a stack of boxes. He listens to Spock’s footsteps puttering about the kitchen, and there’s something soothing about that familiarity. 

Eventually, Spock’s feet appear outside his ‘door.’ Spock bends down to ask, lifting the blanket up, “Why are your blankets arranged in such a manner?”

“It’s a pillow fort,” Jim says, not at all expecting Spock to get it. But Spock simply eyes him and nods. When Jim’s sitting like this, his knees protectively drawn up to his chest, Spock doesn’t argue.

Spock hesitates before asking, “May I come in?”

 _Yes_. Jim built it for the two of them. He’s been home for only a handful of days, but of course Spock still has other things to do, places to be during the day. Doctor’s orders—Jim can’t leave. Jim always just wants Spock to _come back._

He wants them to sit together in this little pillow fort he built and just be close, and he mumbles, “If you take off your shoes.”

Spock nods. The blanket’s dropped back into place, and he can see Spock’s silhouette through it straightening up, climbing out of shoes and taking off a jacket. Jim’s just in his boxers and shirt, but Spock’s done up in a ground uniform. He looks good in the black undershirt. He holds up the blanket again to crawl back in, moving over to the wall. He sits down beside Jim, so close that their sides press together. There isn’t room enough for anything else. The ‘ceiling’ is just a few centimeters above their heads. 

They sit for a little while in the silence, in the lack of light, in the warmth their body heat perpetuates. 

Perhaps entranced by the magic of it, Spock’s voice is barely audible. “What are they for?”

“I don’t know,” Jim whispers back. He can’t remember. Playing, he’s sure, but he’s not exactly sure how to go about the specifics of it. It doesn’t matter. He’s content to just _be_ with Spock, until he decides, “I suppose we could role-play.”

Spock turns his face to the side, eyebrow quirked. It’s still all whispers. “What will we be?”

“I’m the prince that’s trapped in this tower, and you’re the knight that’s come to protect me.” Because sometimes, just lately, that’s what Jim feels like. Weak and useless but the _captain_ : he should be in charge. But at least Spock’s always by his side, checking his readings and applying Bones’ medicine and ‘nursing him back to health.’ Bones is there for him too, but Spock’s the one always _there_ , _protecting_ him.

Spock nods slowly and practically mouths, “I will defend you against anything.”

“I saw a shadow monster outside.” Jim says it so casually that he’s sure Spock must know it’s a metaphor. He did see it—in his sleep—and he thinks about it often. Memories. “It was tall and strong, all black, with superhuman strength, a deep voice and terrible hands.”

Spock reaches over. He gently pushes Jim’s knees down, and Jim obligingly lets them fall, relaxing. His hands shift to his lap. One of Spock’s slips over his, fingers wrapping through Jim’s, intertwining, the way Jim likes to do it when they walk. “I will defeat that beast for you.”

Jim exhales. He leans to the side, head landing on Spock’s shoulder. He can feel Spock’s sleek, dark hair mixing with his own, feel the smooth side of Spock’s face and the bottom of Spock’s ears. Jim turns to kiss the tip; a sensitive spot that always makes Spock shudder. Always makes Jim smile. He kisses it again and licks it, adding a bit of tongue. Then he kisses Spock’s cheek and murmurs, “Thank you.”

Spock turns to look him dead in the eye and insist, “ _You’re safe here._ ”

Jim smiles. He knows.

He knows.


End file.
